In Which Loki Has a Number One Fan
by HidingFromTheSpotlight
Summary: Loki has a fan. The Avengers choose to ignore it, hoping it will go away. It doesn't. Part 3 of the 'Pay Me Proof of Your Pain' 'verse.


**HFTS: **

**Timeline for the 'Pay Me Proof of Your Pain' Universe:**  
**Captain America (1943. CA rediscovered 2012 14th of April, wakes up three days later)**  
**Fantastic Four (2005)**  
**Fantastic Four 2 (2007)**  
**Iron Man (2010)**  
**The Incredible Hulk (2010? 2011?)**  
**Iron Man 2 (2011)**  
**Thor (2011)**  
**The Avengers (May, 2012)**  
**The Amazing Spider-Man (June, 2012)**  
**In Which Loki Returns and Coulson Lives (August, 2012)**  
**Meet Your Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man (August-September, 2012)**  
**In Which Loki Has a Number One Fan (September, 2012)**

**Please note: the X-Men are included in this universe (not this fic), I just don't like the movies so I'm mostly using the comics (mainly Ultimates) and cartoons.**

* * *

It was chaos in the kitchen of Avengers tower. Somehow Thor had set the countertop on fire, which had also set Loki's hair on fire. Both gods were seated in the living room – Loki looking the worse off of the two – after the combined efforts of Natasha and Steve had put out the blaze. Steve looked from one man to the other, severely unimpressed. "Well? Care to explain?"

Thor ducked his head in embarrassment. "Aye, Captain. It- It was an accident, I assure you. I was trying to teach Loki how to use your Midgardian cooking implements when-"

"You set my hair on fire," Loki snapped.

"That was after I broke the oven."

"You set. My hair. On fire," Loki repeated through gritted teeth. His hand clutched at the damaged ends, which now hung just below his earlobes. "I was on fire, Thor."

Thor edged away from Loki cautiously. He silently pleaded with Steve for help. "I did not mean it, brother. I swear."

"I am a Jotun, you imbecile! You could have killed me!" Loki yelled, bringing his fists up to pummel Thor's biceps ineffectually. "Ice and fire do not mix!"

"With all due respect, brother, you are not so weak that a tiny bit of flame could fell you," Thor said.

"I WAS ON FIRE!"

"Look, guys, calm down. It's okay. Loki, I'm sure Thor didn't mean it. Thor, maybe you should call one of us up next time. Okay?" Steve said, gently sitting between Thor and Loki.

"You are correct, Steven. I promise to consult one of the others next time," Thor told him solemnly.

"And I think we'd better take your brother to the hairdresser," Steve added.

"I could do it," Natasha offered.

"No. No one is coming near me with scissors. My hair shall remain as it is to remind me of the damage buffoonery can cause," Loki said.

"Ah, so it was you two who broke my kitchen," Tony said idly. He eyed them with amusement, taking in Loki's hair and Thor's torn shirt. "Maybe I should ground you."

Loki folded his arms across his chest and pouted. "It was Thor's fault."

"It was an accident!" Thor exclaimed hurriedly.

"And that," Tony pointed to the now closed door, "was my kitchen. Was. As in, isn't anymore. Now, I'm not mad. I've broken more shit in this place than the rest of you combined. God only knows how my house in Malibu is still standing. So I'm not mad at you. But I am disappointed in you, Cap."

"I had nothing to do with this!" Steve protested.

"Ha! You think I'm gonna fall for your act, soldier? I'm onto you and your honeyed words. We're going to have a very serious discussion, young man!" Tony said seriously. Steve's expression of pure bewilderment was worth the others looking at him like he'd lost his mind. "Nat, you wanna put the Vikings to work on clean up?"

Natasha nodded, gesturing to Thor and Loki. They followed her mutely into the kitchen. When the door was firmly shut, Tony sat next to Steve with a sigh. "Tony? Is something up?" Steve asked warily.

"You will not believe what Jarvis found while checking the mail," Tony said.

"Jarvis checks the mail?"

Tony nodded, producing an envelope and handing it to Steve. "It's for bombs and stuff like that. Superheroes attract villains, villains have a thing for trying to kill superheroes, you know? This was addressed to Loki."

Steve slipped out the letter and looked at it. It seemed to be a poem, or perhaps just a strangely formatted letter. The more he read, the paler he went. "Oh my god. This is- this is disgusting!"

"Oh, it gets better. Jarvis analysed the letter and guess what. Written in blood."

Steve passed the letter back to Tony and rubbed his hands on his jeans feverishly. He looked like he might throw up. "Jesus H Christ, Tony. That- No. No, this has to be a joke. No one sane would send someone else this sort of- of… Not seriously, I mean. Why did you bring this to me?"

Tony shrugged, dropping the letter onto the coffee table. "You're team leader, so I s'pose you drew the short straw. I mean, if I took it to Thor he'd probably kill whoever sent it with his bare hands. No matter how good Bruce is at containing the Hulk, I think this might push him over the edge. God knows what reading that might do to Natasha and Clint and I'd rather not take a risk in triggering either of them. Jesus, I nearly threw up reading it and I have seen some fucked up shit."

"What do you think this means?"

"Other than the fact that Loki has a really fucked up fan? I don't know. Should we tell Loki? Should we let him read it?"

Steve shook his head, swallowing with difficulty. "He doesn't need this. He's been, well, good lately. I think the therapist idea was a good one, and he and Thor are actually talking. This could… I don't know. Who knows the effect it could have on him?"

"How about this? We burn that thing in the fiery pits of hell and hope it's an isolated incident. If it's not, we'll burn that bridge too," Tony said, just barely grasping the letter with his fingertips.

"Don't you mean 'cross that bridge when we come to it'?"

"No, I meant what I said. We'll burn it down with flamethrowers if we have to."

"What are we setting fire to?" Clint queried, sauntering in with Coulson in tow. "I have an arrow for that."

"We're not burning anything," Steve said forcefully. He shot Tony a warning look that kept him from making any further comments. "Though Thor and Loki may have set fire to the kitchen," he added as an afterthought.

"May have? Did they set it on fire or not?"

"They did. Nat's supervising clean up and Loki's gonna need a barber, but other than that? No harm done," Tony told him.

Coulson sighed. "That really isn't reassuring." He disappeared into the kitchen with a disapproving frown.

"So, who's the letter for?" Clint slumped onto the couch, yawning.

"No one," Tony said as Steve replied, "Loki."

Clint raised his eyebrow at them, waiting. Tony rolled his eyes, holding the envelope just beyond Clint's fingertips as he fixed him with a serious look. "It isn't pretty. And I want you to know that I can recommend you to a psychologist if need be."

Clint's look of disbelief melted into a look of horror as he read. And wasn't that terrifying? An assassin and government-sponsored superhero was horrified, no repulsed, sickened, revolted, afraid of a letter. "What was the name of that psychologist?" he said faintly.

"It's fucked up."

"Holy shit. What the fuck?"

"I know."

"What the fuck?"

"It's horrible," Steve agreed.

"What. The. FUCK!" Clint repeated emphatically.

"I think it broke him," Tony said lightly. "You okay?"

"I need a drink."

"Tough luck, there isn't any in this house."

"Maybe not," Clint muttered darkly. "Who the fuck is this- this freak?"

"Jarvis came up with nada. Whoever he is, he was smart enough not to leave fingerprints," Tony said. "Or anything identifying really."

"That's worrying," Steve said.

"Not really. You'd be amazed how many young punks think they can get away with this shit 'because they saw it on CSI or NCIS or whatever," Tony murmured absently, twirling the envelope in his hands.

"Did you really just say 'young punks'?" Clint chuckled, tension melting away. "My god, you're getting old, Stark! Old!"

"Get off my lawn, you stupid pigeon," Tony shouted without venom. He threw the envelope towards Clint and it fluttered to the ground uselessly. Tony stared at it, outraged. "I wonder if I can turn paper into a deadly weapon."

"Don't," Steve said, picking up the envelope and tucking it into his pocket. Which was a mistake because the sudden BOOM from two floors down had him forgetting about the scrap of paper, despite its disturbing content, and forgetting about it meant that he threw his clothes into the wash without retrieving it, which meant that Loki found it. Not that he had meant to. He wasn't snooping about in Steve's dirty laundry. He and Thor were in charge of checking pockets before putting the dirty clothes into the washing machine. It was Coulson's idea, and right now it was a very bad idea because Thor was nearly bringing the tower crashing down around their ears.

"Thor, calm down!" Steve yelled as he watched Thor put the coffee table through the TV. Tony was quietly grateful that they were in Thor's living room and not the communal one. The thunder god didn't listen, seizing an armchair and throwing it at the wall. He roared in anger, having run out of things to throw, and kicked the wall. Naturally, his foot became stuck.

"Thor, please. You have made a mess," Loki said tiredly. At least he wasn't throwing up or shaking anymore; Thor had nearly had a heart attack when his brother was retching uncontrollably and unable to breathe.

"I shall rend this fiend in two," Thor howled instead, struggling to extract his foot from the reinforced drywall. "I shall make him regret- regret- EVERYTHING!" Thor's foot came flying out of the wall with violent force and sent him sprawling to the floor.

"What if it's a she?" Natasha asked from her and Clint's perch on the breakfast table, the only thing not nailed down to survive the onslaught.

Thor pulled himself up and aimed a kick at the already crushed sofa. He whirled round to glare at the two assassins, gnashing his teeth as a vein in his forehead threatened to burst. "THEN I WILL KILL HER!" he yelled, as though it were obvious.

"Good to see you're an equal opportunity kind of guy," Tony commented.

Loki shuddered, rubbing his arms. Steve would have gone to his side had Thor not threatened anyone who came within a foot of his brother. "Brother, please. I have had worse threats in my life and-"

"WHAT!" Thor's expression darkened and Tony suddenly knew exactly why he was considered a fearsome warrior. Thor stalked over to Loki's side and pulled him into a rough hug. "I will not let them hurt you. Never, as long as I draw breath, will I let harm befall you."

"Yes, Thor, I know. I do remember what you did to the labourer when you caught him," Loki said, though his voice cracked halfway through and another shudder rolled through his slight frame.

"We won't let anything happen to Loki," Steve said.

"Yeah, he may be kinda psychopathic but he's our psychopath," Clint said seriously. "I mean, who else could help me turn Stark's hair pink for three days?"

"I knew that was you, you cocksucker," Tony snapped, throwing a piece of debris at the archer.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Clint said, waggling his eyebrows. Natasha elbowed him in the gut and slid off the table.

"We'll find them, Thor. No one's going to hurt your brother," she told him. "And when we catch them, I'll use the knife you got me to carve their heart out." No one was particularly surprised by how cheerful she sounded, but the pleased look on Thor's face was disturbing.

"C'mon, how about hot cocoa and a fluffy, feel-good movie that Steve'll pretend he isn't bawling like a baby about?" Tony offered. Thor nodded, following the others out of his now wrecked apartment, and up to the communal living room.

He caught Tony by the arm as they climbed the stairs – there was too many of them for the elevator and Steve bitched if they didn't get their 30 minutes a day – and looked thoughtful. "Thank you, Tony. And I apologise for my earlier behaviour."

Tony shrugged. "No problem. As crazy as it seems, we all like your insane brother and we don't want some asshole hurting him."

"I can hear you," Loki murmured as he passed them, his freakishly long legs giving him the advantage in stair climbing. Tony would have paid money to see him try out ice-skating. Instead he put on Frozen and forced Loki to sit between him and Clint. It was how he showed affection. And neither of them commented on the fact that the tension had practically melted out of Loki's shoulders.

* * *

Today was a good day. The sun was shining, the air was cool, and Tony Stark had just taken out a giant robot with one hit. He let out a whoop of excitement as he crashed into a line of smaller bots, hearing the metal shriek and crumple. Somewhere to his left, Hawkeye was shooting arrow after arrow and hitting his targets dead on (as if there were any doubt). Thor was further ahead, knocking out enemies with extreme vigour. Of course, he had a reason to want this over quickly; he'd left his brother with a group of twitchy-fingered SHIELD agents two blocks away, and there was a limit to how long they could be apart. This wouldn't be a problem if the god would just agree to fight with them but so far he was being stubborn. "Is it just me or does this feel really easy?" Tony asked.

"This seems pointless," Bruce agreed. He and Natasha were aboard the Quinjet, keeping a cautious eye out for any robots escaping the perimeter.

Steve flung his shield at a line of the bots and watched it slice through their centres with ease. "I think you're right, Stark. Do we know where they came from?"

"Sewers," Clint grunted, swinging down from the rooftop. "The last of them came up a few minutes ago."

"This will be over very soon, then?" Thor queried.

"You can go to your brother if you want, Thor. We'll take care of the rest," Steve told him. Thor nodded gratefully, flying off. Steve kicked out at the last robot in his vicinity and slowly walked over to his shield. Tony landed not too far off, shaking robot remains from his suit.

"That was way too easy," he said.

"Tasha, you and Bruce can take the Quinjet back to the tower. We'll meet you there with take out," Clint said, gathering any unbroken arrows he could find.

"You sure?" Natasha shrugged, resetting their target coordinates. "Okay. Make sure you take Thor with you to pose and stuff so you don't end up swamped with fans again."

"Why is he everyone's favourite?" Clint whined.

"It's the Shakespeare, I think. Or maybe the cape," Tony said. "C'mon, Hawkeye, I'll race you to the SHIELD babysitting office."

"You can fly; this isn't going to be a fair race."

"Are you saying your parkour isn't up to snuff?"

"First of all how dare you-"

"I'll give a thirty second head-start," Tony offered.

"Second of all see you at the finish line!" Clint leapt over an overturned car and disappeared. Tony chuckled and, when thirty seconds had passed, followed him. The scene waiting for him when he landed was terrifying. The SHIELD non-descript black van had been ripped open, and the two agents had been thrown from the wreckage. Both were dead. A few feet away, Thor was lying in a small crater, unconscious. There was no sign of Loki.

"Holy motherfucking shit," Clint breathed, stopping dead.

Tony made his way over to the nearest agent, flipping open his faceplate. He shuddered, looking down at the torn open button-down. Carved into the soft flesh of a barely twenty-year-old stomach was 'HE'S MINE' over and over. "Cap, we have a problem," he said into the comm.

* * *

Today was not a good day. Less than an hour ago, two agents had been brutally murdered and Loki kidnapped, presumably by his deranged fan. A fan with the power to rip open a van and steal an alien/god with magical powers and knock a thunder god unconscious. The Avengers had gathered in a small park (because Thor was not calm enough to be in the tower) and watched as the thunder god ripped apart a playground. Tony was already putting in a call to Pepper about having it fixed. Coulson had a tablet in his hands, his fingers flying across the screen. He was frowning – not that that was a new thing for him – and he kept darting looks over to the crime scene that SHIELD now had on lockdown. He cleared his throat, and everyone stilled. "I think we have a lead," he said.

"Who has committed this vile act? Tell me," Thor demanded, stalking over.

Coulson's lips twitched. "Victor Von Doom was spotted moments before the attack happened, and then again afterwards carrying an unconscious figure. A charter flight to Latveria left only minutes ago. We tried to get it turned around, but the pilot refused."

"God damn it," Tony muttered. "Thor, whatever you do-"

"What? Do you expect me to leave him? To let this fiend harm my brother?" Thor said through gritted teeth.

"No. Let's come up with a plan first. Doom is a sneaky, insane, crafty son of a bitch. He probably has a thousand different plans just in case you come knocking. He's rich enough to make himself and Loki disappear. So let's not go in guns blazing, okay?"

"I thought your main attack plan was: attack," Steve said lightly.

"I haven't had alcohol in three months; I think I'm becoming sane," Tony replied. "But first things first." He turned to Coulson, eyebrow raised. "Is SHIELD going to stop an incursion into Latveria?"

"Not if they don't know about it," Coulson said. "Excuse me, Stark; I have a few phone calls to make." He gave Tony a look that clearly said 'Fly, you fools,' and turned away. When he looked over his shoulder, he was alone and the Quinjet was mysteriously missing.

* * *

Something was dripping. Slowly. Drip. Drip. Drip. He wondered idly if perhaps there was a leaky faucet nearby. His knees were pressed to solid, icy stone. Drip. Drip. Both of his arms were stretched out to their limits, and tight chains were wrapped around his wrists. They'd stripped him down to his underclothes judging by the chilling breeze that brushed against his bare skin. Drip. He couldn't remember how long he'd been here. Maybe seconds. Maybe days. Was Thor coming for him? Drip. Drip. His tongue was itching, an uncomfortable buzz of magic. Thor had to come for him. If they remained apart for too long, well… he shuddered to think what the punishment might be. Odin had been vague about it. Drip. He tried to pry his eyes open, but a thick fabric was wrapped across his eyes. He could feel something slick and wet dripping down his face. That must be the dripping noise. It was coming from his lips, streaming down his chin. He couldn't open his mouth; he couldn't even feel it. A heavy metal door screeched along the concrete as it was pushed open, and the rough thump of boots marching towards him. They stopped a foot away, no doubt skirting the blood. A hand brushed against him, and the blindfold disappeared. Loki blinked, looking up. Doom looked down at him through his mask. "Welcome, Loki. Doom is pleased to have you joined him," he said.

Loki made muffled whimpers, because that was all he could do, and tried to pull himself away from the fingers running through his hair.

"Doom has seen how the Avengers have domesticated you. Do not fear, Doom will return to you your full glory. You will be beautiful," Doom purred.

Loki struggled, thrashing as much as the chains allowed. He tried to glare at Doom, but the man ignored him. He tried to bend his hand to prod at the threads binding his mouth shut. It was no use, he was too tightly chained, but Doom knew what he wanted to know anyway.

"Lips and tongues tell lies, as you would know. Doom does not need your words; he knows the truth. Talking would only serve to interfere."

Loki wanted to scream. He wanted to yell and rage at this fool. He wanted to curse him. But he couldn't. His words were locked away and his magic bound by the damned chains. There was nothing he could do. Doom seemed to sense his surrender, and knelt to peer at him. His fingers carefully rose up and pried the mask from his face. He allowed it to clatter to the ground, turning slightly so that the scar on his temple wasn't as obvious.

"What do you think?"

Loki stared at him. He had heard of Doom, even fought him once before. But it had never occurred to him that there might be a mortal behind the metal guise.

"Doom is handsome, don't you think? Except for…" His hand brushed the scar. "But do not worry, Doom shall soon kill the man responsible for it."

He leant forwards, resting his forehead against Loki's, and stared into his eyes. Loki did his best not to shudder. The man would undoubtedly kill him, but if he played his part, it might not be soon. And if Thor was looking for him, he would have more time to get to Loki. So, he gently pressed back at the contact, leaning in to it. Doom smiled.

"Once, when Doom was younger and blinded by fickle beauty, he loved another. But now there is only you. You are a creature of magnificence. Doom has never had the pleasure of experimenting on such majesty. It is an honour," Doom breathed. He was leaning closer, and Loki let his eyes fall shut.

* * *

Sleep, proper sleep that he would awake from feeling refreshed, eluded him. But the nightmares did not. He saw them behind his eyelids, heard them in the silence, felt them digging into his brains. So much screaming. No, Loki. Thor let go. Thor let him fall. Screaming. Marks being carved into his flesh while he screamed for his mother. Dark blue skin that wouldn't wash away. No, Loki. Thor throwing him into Thanos' waiting arms. A stallion's hooves thundering behind him as he ran. Thor letting him go. No, Loki. His mother screaming as he choked the life out of her. A spear shoved into Odin's back. Thor's corpse at his feet. Blood on his hands. Blue in his eyes. Blue. Blue that wouldn't wash away. No, Loki. The Other, thrusting a spear into his hands and saying he was ready to lead. Torture. His children. Hooves. No, Loki.

He whimpered, eyes opening. Magic, but not his own, was coursing through his body. He could feel it, like lead settling in his veins. For now it was only unpleasant, though it wouldn't be long before he was screaming. Or dead. Thor seemed convinced that that was the worst the Allfather could do, but Loki knew better. There were so many fates worse than death and he'd experienced at least half of them firsthand. Odin would not be so kind as to grant him death. He knew Loki's fears, he knew how to make him hurt without a weapon. He would bring pain, the kind Loki could not escape, that would send Loki running back to his brother's arms. Doom was stroking his hair again, while his terrified and witless assistant tied Loki down to the metal slab. "You are awake," Doom observed, his mask back in place.

"All- All done, Mr- Mr Doom, sir," the assistant squeaked.

Doom waved him away, and the meek scientist left. Hands trailed down Loki's chest, light and gentle, but their intent was to probe and to push. He wasn't a pretty thing to be admired. He wasn't something soft and sweet to be cuddled. He was an object, a mechanism to be stripped down to its core components. He was something to be studied, but not the tiptoeing study where you're afraid even a breath might crumble the delicate artefact before you. It wasn't kind. Doom was going to break him apart and "fix" him. He had explained it all to Loki in great, horrific detail. Loki shut his eyes again, even though it meant going back to the nightmares. "It isn't long now, Loki. Doom has made sure that every tool is perfect. All that we wait for now is the correct alignment of stars."

Loki falls back into the nightmares. Stars. He could remember stars. There hadn't been any in the Void. The Chitauri knew only of darkness lit by the glow of crystals. But he could remember the stars. After every beating, he would lay still and look up at the barren sky and he could imagine – he would force himself to, it was the only thing keeping him semi-sane – that Thor was searching for him. That soon the darkness would be lit by his brother's fury and might, that he would chase away the Chitauri and take Loki home. It never happened. Instead, he had been forced to lead an army to an unsuspecting realm and declare war. His arms shook as he remembered the weight of the spear, the power of it. His body thrummed, and then he felt it. It wasn't pain. It wasn't pain. But it hurt more than anything physical ever could.

Doom watched as Loki began to writhe, shaking and tossing and straining against his bindings. He pressed down against him, trying to keep him in place. Loki let out a heartbroken sob, trying to pull away. Large hands seized Doom by his shoulders and threw him to the side. He crashed through the stonework and lay still.

"Loki." Thor pulled apart the straps holding his brother to the table, pulling him into an embrace. Loki whimpered again, curling in on himself. His lips were still sewn shut but he was moving them minutely. Thor sent a heated glare towards Doom and pressed a finger to his comm. "I have found Loki and Doom has been dealt with for the moment, although I do not consider it wise to allow me to remain alone with him."

Steve grunted, obviously fighting off Doom-bots. "Iron Man, can you-"

"On it. Black Widow? You good for back up?" Tony asked as he flew towards the basement.

"I'll meet you there," Natasha said. "But if I get there first, I don't know what I'll do."

"Right." Tony landed, walking the last few steps. He checked Loki's vitals with the HUD, grimacing at the readings. "What the fuck did Doom do to him?"

"His mouth has been sewn shut," Thor said, his voice sounding oddly detached. "But… I believe it is what my father did that is affecting Loki for the worse at this time."

"Is he- Well, obviously he's not okay but- How not okay is he?"

"I am not a healer. But it is most likely something… immaterial. Not a physical wound," Thor admitted.

"You're telling me your dad decided to break your brother's brain if he wandered too far away?" Tony drawled. Thor flushed in both anger and embarrassment, but was saved from trying to answer by the arrival of Natasha. She and Tony quickly restrained Doom, and waited for Steve to report in. Thor absently tried to offer his brother soft reassurances, stroking his hair and whispering words of comfort. When he was given the all clear, he swiftly marched up the stairs and to the Quinjet, carrying Loki in his arms. The dark-haired god made no sounds, staying perfectly still. SHIELD's European branch had arrived by the time they set off, left to deal with half a castle and a pile of broken Doom-bots to deal with. The Avengers were in various states of tense, wary relief, and more than once one of them reached over to hold Loki's hand or brush his hair away from his face. It seemed Thor was no longer the only one attached to his brother, and the thought made him smile.

* * *

**HFTS: I should explain Doom's plan because I was being purposefully vague with this one. Basically, Doom decides that Loki is meant to be his lover (through prophecy or his own mad delusions, idc) and then thinks that he should "free" Loki from the Avengers. And then he decides he's going to "fix" him (two guesses what that means). So yeah. **  
**Also, just a side note, this is movie!verse Doom, but his speech patterns are mostly based off of fanfictions and such.**


End file.
